


Mistletoe Never Lies

by CarolineLahey



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Claudia Stilinski, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Christmas, Everyone's alive, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Kate Argent has no existence here, M/M, Mistletoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-29
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2017-12-24 23:04:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/945741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarolineLahey/pseuds/CarolineLahey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek Hale loves his family, he really does. He just wishes they weren't so determined to set him up. When he finally blurts out that he has a boyfriend, and quickly gives his mother the name of the barista at his local coffee shop as his "boyfriend", he figures that buys him a little peace.<br/>He probably should have been paying attention to the part of the conversation where he agreed to bring Stiles home for Christmas to meet the family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

At 32 years old, Derek Hale is happy...well he’s satisfied with his life at least. Which makes the weekly phone call with his family more than a little frustrating.

“Mom, listen, I swear I don’t need Laura to set me up on a blind date.” Derek sighs wearily and runs a hand through his hair. He meant to be home for this call and instead he worked later than intended at his favorite local coffee shop.

“Di Caife”, a name that never failed when it came to confusing people who wanted to read more into the name--it literally meant Drink Coffee--had become Derek’s office away from the office a couple years ago, right around the time he was searching for fresh inspiration for his next book series. Di Caife was an interesting blend of chain coffee shops and quirky local joint. The front of the store had a few couches and chairs, with plenty of tables and outlet connections for laptops. But around the back of the counter, where the regulars or adventurous headed were cozy nooks and the kind of chairs you could fall asleep in. The owner had lined one wall with shelves and the books that rotated in ranged in interest. The store policy was that if you wanted to take a book home, you had to put one on the shelf, and Derek wasn’t above slipping copies of his own works in there.

Derek tunes back into his mother, who was still explaining why his older sister Laura set him up out of good intentions. He already knows this part. “Mom. Mom!”

“Yes dear?” Talia’s voice is measured, like she’s waiting to hear which argument he’s going to try this time.

“Please tell Laura to stop. I really don’t need a set up.”

“Your sister loves you. She just wants to see you happy.”

“I know that. But even if I was looking, Laura has terrible taste. The last three blind dates she set me up with were, in order from least to most horrific, a girl who lectured me about eating red meat, a guy who ordered a cup of whipped cream for dinner then spent the entire time licking it off his finger and talking about riding my disco stick, and a girl who was deeply upset about the couple in my latest book despite the fact that I write fictionalized novellas about historical couples so there was no way I could ‘ship’ the heroine with someone else even if I cared about that shit.”

There’s a loud snort next to him. Derek looks up from his rant to see one of the baristas muffling his laughter into his sleeve. The guy--who Derek’s been guessing is about 23--started working at Di Caife almost six months ago. His nametag says Stiles, though Derek’s known that piece of information for a while. and he’s got a devilish grin on his face.

Stiles points at his coffee cup. “It’s been an hour,” he whispers. “You want another refill?”

His mother’s voice comes in on the phone. “Derek, are you listening to me?”

Derek nods at Stiles and offers a smile, then refocuses. “Sorry mom, the barista needed me. Look, I have to go. I love you. Tell the family hello.” He hangs up before she can say anything else, no longer interested in another discussion of his love life. It’s not that he wants to be alone forever. In fact, the idea of falling in love and having someone to come home to is a deep desire, but he’d rather find someone on his own, and the right person just hasn’t come along. He gave his sister a chance to meddle, and she royally screwed up. His family can just butt right out.

Stiles sets the fresh drink--coffee, chocolate, and steamed milk topped with the cafe’s in-house whipped cream and a dash of cinnamon--in front of Derek. “Family?”  he asks.

“My mother,” answers Derek. “I love her but...”

“Sometimes you hate her?” finishes Stiles. He continues after Derek nods. “My dad’s the one who likes to set me up.”

“Really?”

Stiles grins. “Yeah well, my mom is really big on fate and how things are meant to be. My dad’s a cop though, and way more pragmatic. He spent a few years trying to set me up with every male cop on the force after I told him I was gay. The blind dates have toned down, the obsessive concern continues.”

“And here I thought you were going to tell me it gets better.”

“Nope. I’ve been known to go back to my fictional on again/off again boyfriend when my cousin teams up with my dad.”

Derek had taken a sip of his drink, but his interest is piqued at that. “Fake boyfriend?”

Stiles shrugs. “I don’t use it much, mostly when they get out of hand or someone I don’t know well--and therefore don’t care about their opinion--won’t let it go. Wade Wilson is a flawed catch, insofar as I’ve created him.”

“Your fake boyfriend is Deadpool?”

Stiles outright laughs, big peals of laughter that fill the room and startle the few other patrons. “You’re the only person outside of my best friend to catch that.”

Derek starts to comment, he’s not a comic book geek by any means, as his younger sister is constantly informing him while she lectures about the backstory of lesser known Avengers, but he has his favorites. And talking to Stiles is nice. The guy’s always been friendly, but this is probably the longest conversation they’ve had. He’s clearly a lot younger than Derek’s usual taste, though he is definitely to his taste.

Long and lean, deceptively muscular underneath the casual coffee shop uniform of jeans and a loose t-shirt and apron, and hands that Derek’s been known to ogle while waiting for his drink.

Stiles’ eyes spark a lot, bright and innocent, but his mouth begs to be despoiled.

“Yo! Stiles! We need you up front, dude!” A voice from one of the other baristas comes from the doorway, and Stiles smiles apologetically. “I should probably go. Sorry to take up your time.”

“It’s fine,” says Derek, though Stiles’ already gone and can’t hear him. “Totally fine,” he mutters again.

He sips his drink, enjoying the freshness and warmth. Di Caife has a deal with regulars who stay for a while and tip well. He orders the largest size of his drink, and they make it in small size increments, so he’s never stuck with a cup half full of cold coffee. Derek thinks he might try talking a little more to Stiles next week. He has no interest in dating a college kid, but it’s been way too long since he’s gotten laid.

Stiles looks like a satisfying distraction.

~

Monday finds Derek on the receiving end of a passionate Stiles lecture on inflated tuition prices and why the lack of reasonable education costs are why there are more uneducated workers, not because the millennial generation is lazy or unmotivated.

He’d made a questioning noise at some of his research when Stiles had dropped off his coffee, and when asked about it, mentioned that it was interesting to see the way education costs rose as did societal expectations that everyone should be educated. He hadn’t intended to spark a rant, though he supposed most college students weren’t happy to have to work full time in jobs like this while going to school. Derek imagined the stress must be rough.

Stiles’ hands move a lot as he talks, expressive fingers twisting in the air, and Derek watches them almost as much as he watches Stiles’ lips move.

“...and furthermore, studies show that only twenty-seven percent of college graduates work in the field they actually studied, so we’re inflating education costs, insisting that a degree is necessary for employment, and yet companies still consistently employ people with no experience in that particular job.” Stiles’ hands slap onto the table, emphasizing his point. “They system sets up absurd expectations, limits creativity, and is possibly one of the best scams out there.”

“So tell me how you really feel,” says Derek, once he can finally get a word in.

Stiles blushes, his neck coloring up with his cheeks. Derek wants to follow that blush under his shirt. “I can get a little carried away,” admits Stiles. He looks a little too apologetic, so Derek quickly adds, “No, it’s good to be passionate. And it’s not like you don’t have good points.”

They only get a few more minutes together, this time a friend of Stiles’ is at the counter, but Derek smiles a little more that day. He figures a few more weeks and he could broach the subject of drinks. Derek’s still not interested in a relationship with someone so young, but he suspects that Stiles’ not opposed to sex for its own sake. He just doesn’t want to have to give up working at the coffee shop, thus making the groundwork necessary.

When Derek gets home that night, he possibly spends a little longer than necessary in the shower, imagining Stiles’ fingers instead of his own, stroking and teasing him to completion. He comes when his mind pictures Stiles sinking to his knees in front of him, that fucking mouth begging to be filled.

Derek breathes heavily, head resting against the shower wall for a few minutes, before he cleans himself up and finishes his shower.

~~~~~~

He works at home for the next several days, putting his research together so he can start writing. Which means he’s once again at Di Caife for his mother’s phone call, forced to talk in low tones so he doesn’t interrupt anyone else.

“You haven’t been home for the holidays in three years, Derek.”

“My work keeps me busy, Mom. I’ve told you this. Look, I promise I’ll come visit sometime in the spring,” says Derek, pushing his notebook aside. He’s unlikely to get anymore work done today.

“You keep saying that, but you never do,” says Talia, sounding severely displeased. “If you don’t come here, Laura and I are going to visit you for two weeks in January.” Derek makes a face. His mother is a little too good at manipulating him and even better at knowing it. He heaves an overly exaggerated sigh. “Fine. I suppose I can spare a few days.”

He can practically hear his mother smile over the line. “Wonderful. Laura’s bringing a few friends with her as well, so we’ll have a full house.”

“That sounds ni...” Derek balks. “What you mean, Laura’s bringing friends?”

“Oh you know, Laura and her husband will be here and they had a few single friends who didn’t have anywhere to go, so we invited them to join us.”

Derek smells a rat. “We just talked about you not setting me up.”

“Nonsense,” laughs Talia. “Just friends. If you happen to hit it off with someone, that’s just a bonus.”

Derek resists the urge to throw his phone across the room. “Mom, how many times do I need to tell you I don’t need this?”

“You’re the one who’s all alone in the city.”

He lives in New Haven. And while certainly bigger than small town near his parents’ rural farm in Vermont, it’s not exactly an overwhelming metropolis. Just as he’s thinking he’s screwed and due for a very long Christmas of dodging advances and pretending his family is subtle, he catches sight of Stiles across the room. “Actually Mom, the reason I don’t want a date is that I’ve been seeing someone for a few months.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, his name’s Stiles, younger than me, but a great guy,” So Stiles used a fictional person and Derek’s referencing a living, breathing human. It’s not like Derek’s family will ever know Stiles is real. This is perfect. Derek keeps an eye out, making sure the subject of his conversation can’t hear him. Stiles is leaning over a table, clearing empty mugs away, and Derek’s mildly distracted by the shape of his ass. “Uh huh,” he says into the phone when Talia pauses, figuring that’s vague enough to be an answer.

He keeps his gaze on Stiles. Derek can just imagine the cafe after hours, stripping Stiles of his clothes, and spreading him out on one of the tables. He’d fuck into him slowly, teasing Stiles to the edge over and over again before letting him come, working him into a state of frenzied need.

“If that sounds good, we’ll see you the 22nd,” says Talia, finishing up whatever she was saying.

“Yeah great. Can’t wait,” says Derek distractedly. He wonders how Stiles’ stamina is, if he could bend him over one of the oversized chairs and bring him off again.

“Wonderful. Tell Stiles we’re all so excited to meet him and be sure and let me know if there are any special holiday dishes he wants.” Talia hangs up and Derek puts his phone down, grinning at Stiles, who moves to another table and waves at Derek.

That’s when his mother’s last words finally register. Shit. Oh this is not good. Did he seriously just promise to bring his fake boyfriend, who happens to be a barista and college student and the feature in most of Derek’s recent fantasies, home to his family’s for Christmas? Derek moans outright and buries his face in his hands. He is so fucking screwed.

“That doesn’t sound good.” Stiles stands over him, bus tub in hand.

“I’ve made a horrible mistake. And I’m really really sorry.” Derek turns his head and opens one eye to look up at Stiles.

“That sounded weirdly like an apology to me.”

Derek would prefer to disappear into the wall right now, but since that’s not an option, he chooses sitting up like an adult instead. “Remember when you said you have a fake boyfriend to keep family off your back?”

Stiles nods, then looks contemplative. “Oh. You picked a real person. Dude, rookie mistake.”

“I wasn’t thinking,” protests Derek. “I agreed to go home for Christmas and she kept talking about single friends I could meet and before I knew it I was telling her about my boyfriend of four months.” He doesn’t appreciate Stiles’ subsequent laughter, understandable though it may be. “It gets worse.”

“Worse?! This I have to hear.” Stiles sets his dishes on an empty table and slides into the chair across from Derek. “Okay, how is the fake boyfriend that’s actually a real person, not that you have to tell him you used his name or anything, not the bad part?”

Derek mumbles it out as quickly as possible. “I wasn’t really listening to my mother and it seems I agreed to bring this boyfriend home for Christmas and at this point she’s probably told the entire family about it.”

Stiles snorts. “Yeah, that’s bad.”

“I have no idea what I’m going to do.”

“Oh you poor soul. Look, why not just call your mom back later, say that you made that promise without asking and that he already has plans with his family.”

“She’ll visit just so she can meet him.”

“Then talk to the guy. Unless he’s a total asshole, I’m sure he can handle a couple hours pretending to date you.” Stiles’ gaze lingers along Derek’s body. “You’re not hard on the eyes or anything.”

Derek just knows he’s turning red. Thank goodness his beard hides some of it.

“So who’s the guy?”

Derek freezes. “Um...” He needs to look away from Stiles now. Like right now. Before Stiles figures it out.

“Me?!”

Shit. “Sorry?” He offers.

Stiles waves a hand in dismissal. “I’m not offended or anything. It’s kind of flattering actually. Though confusing.”

“I really didn’t mean to,” insists Derek. “You were just there and cleaning and the words came out before I could stop myself.”

Stiles makes an odd face at his words, like he actually is upset about something. Derek continues, figuring he might as well go for broke. He’s certainly lost any chance at sex at this point, but maybe he can still salvage his holiday plans. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’re free for Christmas?”

“Seriously?”

Derek sighs. “No, of course you aren’t. Look don’t worry about it. I’ll do what you said and then just break up with fake you before my mother can visit. I’m really sorry I brought you into any of this.”

“I wasn’t saying no, Derek. I’m just surprised you want to go through with the charade.”

“If I thought I could have any peace, I wouldn’t. But you have to understand, I love my family. I wish I could go home more often. Every single time results in meddling with my love life. Or lack thereof. Sure it’s great I have a career and they’re fine with me and the city but no one ever lets go of the idea of finding me someone.” Derek knows they mean well. That doesn’t change his frustration. “Telling them about a boyfriend buys me a few weeks of peace, but bringing someone home could get me a couple years since I could beg off the next year’s holidays and pretend to be with his family.” He tries to think of a way to convince Stiles that this isn’t the worst idea ever. The conversation they had about high tuition costs pops in his head. “I could pay you,” he offers.

Stiles doesn’t look thrilled at Derek’s request but he doesn’t leave either. “If I agree, what would this entail?”

Derek thinks. “You’d have to share a room with me, spend some time rehearsing our how we met story and learning about each other, and I guess basic affection in public. Enough to sell the story.” Derek leans forward, hoping his eyes can convince Stiles if his words can’t. “I know this is an imposition and that you barely know me, but I’d be eternally grateful.”

“Okay,” says Stiles, and Derek thinks he could cry. “Really?”

“Yeah. I’ve got the time off anyway and my parents won’t mind. There’s a million cousins running around anyway, I’ll barely be missed.”

“You are my hero right now,” says Derek, meaning every word. Now if they can just pull off conning his mother.


	2. Chapter 2

Derek really should be shot by a firing squad. Stiles is sitting in the passenger seat of his Camaro, rattling off the facts he’s memorized about Cora, Derek’s 23 year old sister, who’s home from grad school, and all Derek can think about is that his backseat is far too small to fuck Stiles without breaking something but that he could probably lay the seat flat and push it back far enough to be able to take his time sucking Stiles’ off.

He’s horrible. Going to hell for thinking about sex when Stiles is doing him a favor. He never should have asked Stiles. Actually, corrects Derek to his conscience, what he should have done is hit on Stiles months ago, and gotten this out of his system.

“Derek!”

“Sorry. Uh, what was your question?”

“I wanted to know if Cora was majoring in library science or archival library science.” Stiles directs a puzzled look at him. “Where were you?”

“Just thinking,” replies Derek. “Cora’s technically getting her Master of Library Science but her program is working that into a doctorate in Archives and Preservation. But you could actually just remember the library part and ask her about it. She loves to talk about whatever new thing she learned about something really old.”

Stiles nods. “Got it.” He licks at his lips as he thinks, distracting Derek again. “And then Laura studied art conservation and her husband Boyd is in historic preservation and they work on a contract basis with museums around New England.”

“Yep.”

“You guys really like history don’t you?”

Derek shrugs. “There are a lot of stories out there waiting to be heard, they just need someone who knows how to find them.” He tries not to sound overly defensive.

Stiles puts a hand on Derek’s arm to stop him. “No, that wasn’t a diss. I think it’s great. I’ve spent more than my fair share of time disappearing into the history section of the library. Like there was this English lady named Edith Cavell in World War 1 that was a badass nurse and spy and was shot by a firing squad and people forget about her all the time but she was fucking amazing.”

“That’s kind of a random person to reference,” says Derek. It’s interesting, but odd.

“‘Member I told you my mom’s a nurse and my dad was a soldier before being a cop. Stories about people who are braver than most were my bedtime stories growing up,” answers Stiles.

Of course they were, thinks Derek. Because that’s just his luck. He notices Stiles’ hand hasn’t moved away though, the heat from his fingers sinking into Derek’s skin. Before Derek can go back down that line of thinking, he focuses on the road. And just in time as he nearly misses the turn.

“We’re almost there,” he tells Stiles. Whatever they’ve learned about each other will have to be enough at this point.

They’re quiet as Derek pulls up the drive to his family home. He has no idea what Stiles is thinking about, probably anything from trying to remember the right names to wondering if there’s still time to back out. Derek watches the road, the way the drive turns into gravel just as the trees clear out, opening up to the front yard. The house is fairly large, as his parents always wanted to be sure their kids could visit far into the future. It rises against the treeline, like something out of a painting, or so it has always seemed to Derek.

“Wow,” says Stiles, and Derek allows himself a soft smile. The reaction of visitors to the house is always a good gauge of whether they’ll get invited back.

The 19th century farmhouse (added on to by his grandparents after their fourth child turned two and they learned that twins were on the way) is sprawling but unassuming, designed to be lived in rather than gawked at.

Laura walks out of the remodeled garage shop as Derek parks the car, baby Sammy on her hip and waves at them. The separate apartment offers privacy for his sister’s family when they visit, and Derek guesses that means he and Stiles will get the in-law suite above the living room. It’s a weird feeling, that area is designed to offer privacy for a couple, and he and Stiles don’t exactly need that, but Derek thinks Stiles might like the extra space.

“Ready?” he asks.

“No one’s going to kill me right?”

Derek snorts. “Not hardly. So long as they believe this, they’ll probably like you more than me.”

“Oh well in that case,” laughs Stiles shakily, but he wraps his fingers around the door handle and pushes his way out of the car so Derek figures they’re okay.

“Damn, I forgot how cold it gets outside of the city.”

“Yeah, Mom will probably have cider and coffee going to warm you up, just fair warning.”

“Then your mother is a goddess among women.” Stiles grabs his suitcase out of the trunk and follows Derek up to the house, where Laura is waving at both of them and holding the door open.

Derek’s right about his family. Laura greets him with a kiss and a half hug for Stiles, with a warm “it’s so lovely to meet you, Stiles.” Sammy stares at Stiles and Derek for a long moment, like he’s not sure what to do with these two people he doesn’t know, despite being told Derek is his uncle, before he makes a big spit bubble and reaches his hands out to Stiles first.

“Perfect choice,” snickers Stiles, swooping Sammy out of Laura’s arms when she nods permission and spinning around once, making faces at Sammy before pulling him in tight. Derek gapes. “What was that?”

Stiles shrugs. “I told you. Lots of cousins. There was a good decade difference between me and all but one of them. I was put on babysitting duty a lot.”

Sammy gurgles and pats Stiles’ cheek.

“You may get the same treatment here if my kid’s going to be this in love with you,” laughs Laura.

“We’d like that wouldn’t we Sammy?” Stiles dips Sammy and laughs with the baby, then dips him again. “Oh yes, I’m just going to be your favorite.”

“Do I hear my grandson switching loyalties?” says a voice from the kitchen, and Talia walks around to the hallway, just in time for Stiles to blush. Derek reacts the same way he does every time Stiles blushes but it allows him to ignore the pang he’d felt watching Stiles  be so comfortable with his family, and he turns to kiss his mother hello. “You’re still my favorite, Mom.”

Talia wraps her arms around him and Derek sinks into the hug, there’s nothing quite like that feeling of coming home. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I made a pecan pie for you.”

Laura rolls her eyes. “This is what we call a mama’s boy,” she says to Stiles.

“I’m an only child,” replies Stiles. “I’m probably no help in a bid for sympathy at not being the favorite.”

“See Laura, I’m the favorite,” says Derek, not even caring that he’s an adult and shouldn’t be sticking his tongue out at his sister.

Sammy chooses that moment to clap his hands and produce a spit bubble on Stiles’ neck. “I think he’s saying grandchild wins,” says Stiles. He hands Sammy back to Laura with minimal difficulty and wipes away the residual slobber with his sleeve before turning back to Talia.

“And you must be Stiles.”

“Oh shit,” apologizes Derek and then withers under his mother’s glare. “I mean oops. Sorry. Mom, this is Stiles, my boyfriend. Stiles, this is my mother Talia.”

“It’s a pleasure. Derek’s told me a little about his family, but I’m so excited to get to meet you all.” Stiles hugs Talia and she smiles at Derek over his head, the first sign of approval. “We’re happy you could be here,” she says. “Now how about Derek takes you up to the mini-suite so you can get settled in? We’ll have dinner in about an hour.” The last part is directed to both of them and Derek nods in agreement. He could use a chance to make sure Stiles is okay. He seemed fine  but Derek knows all too well how people can put on a good face.

* * *

 

Once in the room, Stiles immediately collapses across the queen size bed, though he kicks his shoes off before putting his feet on the quilt. Derek doesn’t comment  but he appreciates it. His grandfather worked hard on that quilt. It’s not the prettiest looking in the family collection but Papa Nathan spent two years dedicated to the damn thing, determined to win the bet against Grandma Abigail. (He lost by a week, and Grams still rides victory laps on the tractor she rebuilt by herself at 82 to rub it in).

“I can see why you’re reserved,” says Stiles.

Derek sets their suitcases near the dresser, they can unpack later, and turns as he sits in the desk chair. “Huh?”

“Laura’s kind of…” Stiles pauses like he’s trying to think of a diplomatic term, “Enthusiastic. So’s your mom. And you’re kind of quieter at the cafe. It’s interesting.” Derek must still look confused because Stiles continues. “Like, my best friends, Scott, Isaac, and Erica are all siblings and Erica’s really exuberant and out there and seeks out attention, while Isaac is pretty quiet and unassuming. But if he has something to say, everyone notices. Maybe it’s a middle child thing.”

“Is Erica the baby of her family?”

Stiles nods. “Yup. Scott’s the oldest. He kind of took charge with his mom when their dad took off. I mean, it’s not a bad thing to be quiet. I’m sure people would appreciate if I shut up once in a while.”

“I like when you talk,” blurts out Derek. It’s really not what he meant to say. But it doesn’t mean it isn’t true so he refuses to take it back.

“Thanks,” says Stiles, in a casual but gracious tone. He flops back on the bed. “Anyway, I like them. Laura’s never allowed to meet Erica though.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” laughs Derek. Stiles seems to be done with his current line of thought, so Derek starts putting his clothes in the dresser. When he finishes, he thinks he could be nice, so he puts Stiles’ things away in the other dresser, though he doesn’t sort through anything. Part of him wants to. But he reminds himself that Stiles is an acquaintance, at best a casual friend, and Derek shouldn’t invade his privacy.

“You’ve got ink on your lip,” says Stiles randomly, poking his head up from the pillow.

“Huh?” Derek rubs at his mouth. His family probably didn’t even notice. He does this all too often.

Stiles hands him a tissue and says “Yeah, from when you were chewing on a pen before we left. You do that when you know how you want a line to go but haven’t figured out the words yet.”

“I don’t think I told you that,” says Derek.

Stiles blushes. “Oh. Yeah, I kind of noticed at the cafe. It’s cute. Even if it does end up staining the coffee mugs with little ink spots.”

“Sorry?” offers Derek, not really sure what to say. He mostly wants to kiss his way along Stiles’ collar, following that blush under the neckline of his shirt, and he’s not really thinking about his nervous writing habits.

“It’s not a big deal. I notice weird things about people anyway.” Stiles fidgets on the bed--it’s distracting as fuck--and causes Derek to choke when he spreads his legs before pushing himself up. “Guess we should go downstairs now.”

Derek nods. “Yeah. Uh, yeah, that’s great.

* * *

 

Derek and Stiles both pause at the doorway to the kitchen, the aromas of dinner--roast chicken and savory butternut squash if Derek knows his mother--welcoming them. Derek moves away to let Stiles go through first, trying not to think about the way Stiles’ hand brushes against his hip and the way he wonders what that hand would feel like if it touched him with purpose.

“Not so fast,” cautions Talia with a dangerous smile. She points the spatula in her hand up at the door frame, to the mistletoe hanging above them.

“Really, Mom?”

“You know what they say, mistletoe never lies.”

Cora, Derek’s younger sister is home from college and frosting cookies at the island counter. She rolls her eyes but points at the mistletoe with her frosting bag. “I’m Cora,” she says to Stiles. “And sorry about this but it is tradition. Oh and good luck. You don’t want to know how many people we’ve all dumped because they didn’t pass the mistletoe kiss.”

Derek can’t believe he forgot about this. Knowing the details of his family, getting along with Sammy, learning facts about himself are all things they’d prepared for and he forgot his mother’s favorite trick. Derek sighs inwardly and hopes that if this doesn’t fool his family, that at least they’ll be nice enough not to say anything until the holiday is over and Stiles is back in Connecticut.

Stiles meanwhile, is fake swooning in the doorway. “Take me, my darling.”

“Not like that,” returns Derek.

Stiles straightens. “Fine. Give me a real foot-popping kiss.” Derek has no idea what he’s referencing but Cora dissolves in peals of laughter. Oh he’ll give Stiles a kiss alright. Fuck it. Thanks to his big mouth he ruined any chance of getting to fuck Stiles, and he doesn’t want a boyfriend--not that Stiles wants to date him either--but Derek’s damn good at satisfying anyone he’s been with, and he refuses to let a fake boyfriend be an exception.

Derek hooks one arm around Stiles’ waist, pulling his body flush against him in a quick motion, then reaches his other hand to cup Stiles’ jaw. Derek leans over to whisper hotly in Stiles’ ear, “Oh, I’ll make something pop alright,” then moves back and presses his lips to Stiles. He’s gentle at first giving Stiles a chance to relax and when Derek feels the shift in Stiles’ posture, he presses deeper, licking along the seam of Stiles’ lips and tugging the bottom one into his mouth with little nips and licks.

Stiles sort of melts into him, hands wrapping around Derek’s neck and though Derek would swear they’re the same height, he has to bend a little to keep seeking out the taste of Stiles. For a moment the rest of the world ceases to exist, because Stiles’ fingers are tangling in his hair and he tastes like butterscotch candies and makes these delightful little whimpers that Derek swallows whole.

He comes back to the sound of Laura behind them, noting the surprise floor show with dinner, and pulls away from Stiles with an odd feeling of regret.

Stiles is staring at him, looking more debauched than he should for being in a kitchen surrounded by Derek’s family. There’s an almost hurt look in his eyes for the briefest second, like a caged animal, but it’s gone before Derek can fully process what it might mean and Stiles is exaggerating a faint across the kitchen floor towards Cora, before scooping up a cookie. “I need a little more sugar,” he snickers.

It breaks whatever lingering moment was left and the rest of them laugh.

“That work for you, Mom?” asks Derek, following Stiles’ example and stealing Cora’s cookies.

Talia nods. “It was certainly illuminating.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the lateness. Life got a bit busy, but things should be back on track now.

Any residual awkwardness from the kiss is avoided at the sound of the door opening, and he can hear his brother-in-law Boyd talking with his Uncle Peter and Aunt Aria as they stamp the snow off their boots. “Hello everyone,” calls Aria from the hall.

“Derek, go help your Aunt with her coat,” directs Talia. He was already going, but he moves a little faster. Stiles starts to follow and Cora grabs his wrist. “You should stay in here and help Mom chop pecans to toast for the squash.”

“I don’t mind…” begins Stiles, trailing off as Derek shakes his head. “Or I can chop nuts.”

Talia hands him a knife with a smile. “You’ll meet them in a minute anyway. My  brother, bless his heart, is a busybody. This is us looking out for you.”

Stiles grins and devotes his attention to the nuts, waving his non-knife wielding hand at Derek. “Bye honey, have fun storming the castle!”

Derek snorts, because really what else is one supposed to say to that, and makes it to the hall just in time to see Boyd finish hanging up Aria and Peter’s coats before shrugging off his own.

“Merry Christmas, Aria,” says Derek, leaning over to kiss her cheek. She hugs him before passing him over to the boys, who hug as well, then Boyd moves past them with a smile to greet his wife and son.

“So a boyfriend?” Peter smirks at Derek. “That’s new.”

“Don’t start, Peter,” glares Derek. “And you will be nice to Stiles. He’s up here away from his family to spend Christmas with us.”

“I’m always nice,” protests Peter.

Derek rolls his eyes. “Right. Just tone it down to about a three, and you might not scare him away.”

At precisely that moment, Aria bursts into laughter, doubling over in the hallway. Derek barely catches Peter’s eyes go wide as they turn around. Stiles is standing at the end by the kitchen doorway, red frosting on his face like the Joker’s smile, the cutting knife in one hand and a Rudolph cookie in the other. “Off with his head for he has displeased the king!” shrieks Stiles in a loud voice, though it shakes a bit, like he can’t quite keep in character--whatever character that is--and Derek has to grab the wall for support, he’s laughing so hard.

Stiles laughs maniacally once more before disappearing back into the kitchen.

When Derek makes it in a few seconds later, Stiles is scrubbing frosting off his face, Sammy is clapping and bouncing in his high chair, while both his sisters are wiping tears from their eyes. “What the hell was that?” asks Derek, still trying to catch his breath.

“You should have seen Peter’s face,” gasps out Laura. “Oh god I thought he was going to faint on Mom’s poinsettias.”

Even Boyd, normally unflappable, is snickering with laughter.

Peter finally walks in and walks right up to Stiles. “Sir,” says Peter with an affected air, “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Stiles shakes his hand and Derek can tell he’s trying not to laugh. “Nice to meet you too. I swear, none of this was my idea.”

“Oh this has my nieces written all over it.” Peter moves away to greet the others and Derek sidles up next to Stiles.

“I am so sorry,” he says quietly. “If I’d known my family would act like this, believe me I would have added a disclaimer.”

“Totally fine,” assures Stiles. “Honestly, this is much better than some sort of awkward small talk.”

Derek isn’t so sure, but he is glad his family isn’t sitting around quizzing Stiles on every detail of his life, so he decides Stiles is mostly right.

“Derek. Cora.” Talia waves both over to her where she’s on the phone. “Your father’s stuck at the end of the turn, can you two go tow him out?”

“Is he okay?” asks Stiles and is clearly thrown off by the snickers that emerge.

Derek nods. “Dad drives a sports car like me. Which is not a stupid choice,” he glares at certain family members who like to argue that fact, “but unlike me, he won’t put snow tires on, saying he rarely gets stuck so it’s fine.”

“I take it that’s not true?”

Cora snorts. “Either me or Boyd haul his car up to the house at least three times a week. Dad doesn’t even speed or drive recklessly. But then some of us are smart enough to drive trucks.”

“The Camaro is a beautiful car,” snaps Derek. “Stiles likes it.”

“I do like the Camaro,” hedges Stiles.

“I hear a but in there.”

“But I have my jeep, dude. I’d still pick her to win over a sports car.”

“Victory!” crows Cora.

Derek shakes his head in mock defeat and follows her out as Laura asks about Stiles’ major. He’ll argue his side on the way to get their Dad, until Cora gives up so she doesn’t have to hear the lectures.

~

“So Stiles?” asks James, as he pops the seat back behind Derek so he can get in the truck.

“He’s nice,” admits Cora. “Nicer than anyone Mom or Laura has tried to set him up with.”

“I’d be impressed, but that’s a really low bar.”

Derek snickers. “Stiles is…Stiles is great,” he says finally. His dad gives him a look in the rearview mirror, one that clearly demands more detail. “He’s smart and inquisitive. A lot like our family in the way none of us can really be content to read just one article on a subject, instead we’re always researching background information and side stories, and Stiles does the same. He’s helped a few times on my last couple projects actually, coming up with ideas or possible tangents that have kept me from too much writers block.”

Derek leans forward in his seat. “Oh, and the coffee shop he works at, that I write at most of the time and they have a deal where you can pay just a little extra for refills of the actual drink, but its just the basic drink, not like the toppings, but Stiles always adds whip cream for me.” It sound silly he knows, but it really is good. And it’s not like Derek has any fantasies involving Stiles and whip cream. None at all. Certainly none he’s thinking about while in the same car with his father and little sister.

When Cora smirks like she knows exactly where his mind went, he switches back to safer Stiles related topics.

~

Dinner goes more smoothly than Derek expected. He’s rather impressed with his family’s maturity.

Most of the conversation ends up revolving around Christmas traditions and stories. Talia tells about the year Laura tried to get the family to celebrate all the holidays around the Winter Solstice, including Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, and Three Kings Day. She was successful until she handed out a list of gifts she’d deemed appropriate for each holiday. Then it became very clear why Laura was so excited about celebrating other cultures.

Stiles laughed with the rest, but admitted to Derek quietly that if he’d thought of it when he was young, he would have tried the same trick.

Derek is less thrilled about the story of the time in sixth grade when he came up with the theory that if he dressed as Santa to sneak a look at the presents under the tree--because he obviously knew Santa wasn’t real by then, even if Cora didn’t--then no one would stop him to preserve the illusion for his baby sister.

He sort of forgot that Cora was sound asleep in the other end of the house, and was discovered trying to rewrap a present with one hand, while the other held his Grandpa Nathan’s red pair of long underwear up around his waist.

Derek’s presents were given to charity that year.

Stiles in return admitted that he used to sneak into the kitchen late at night and eat frosting by the spoonful, which drove his dad crazy when he’d go to decorate cookies the next day and have no frosting. He was finally thwarted when his dad pureed cauliflower, dyed it green and red, and put it in the fridge. Stiles gives a little bow at everyone’s laughter, and states that he has since always made a point to taste test frosting first and he always leaves his dad plenty for his own cookies.

Stiles wins his family over even more when he offers to take Sammy from Laura, entertaining the toddler while Laura and Boyd get to enjoy their meal and participate with the adults.

And when dinner is over and Stiles doesn’t ask how he can help, just tucks Sammy on his hip and starts clearing dishes to the sink, Derek catches his mom give an approving look at his dad.

It makes Derek breathe easier, knowing that this means there’s less likely to be interrogation later. They tend to ease in most significant others, with Boyd being one of the few who got a lighter sentence thanks to his naturally polite attitude and insistence on helping out. He tries to ignore the slight pang he gets every time one of his family members smiles at him in the way that indicates they like Stiles and approve. They’ll understand when he tells them that he and Stiles broke up in a few weeks. Or maybe months. Yeah, he may have to wait a little longer to drop that downer.

The fact that the thought of breaking up with Stiles, even when their relationship is fake, is one that upsets him too is one he chooses not to think about.

Instead he tries play the role of affectionate boyfriend, leaning into Stiles as he talks, brushing a hand across his waist when they pass in the kitchen, and keeping a smile plastered on his face.

~

Derek freezes in the doorway between the suite and the attached bathroom, realizing they have to deal with sleeping arrangements in the room with one bed. “Um…” he begins eloquently.

“I don’t kick or move much in my sleep, so I figured one take the right, the other the left,” offers Stiles, seeming to have anticipated his question.

Derek forces himself to walk the rest of the way into the room and nod in agreement. “That sounds good.” He’d worn boxers instead of his usual boxer briefs out of respect, and goes now to find a shirt to sleep in. Stiles is wearing the same, with the boxers showing a Captain America shield right over his dick. Derek’s gaze possibly lingers for a minute at the reflection of Stiles in the mirror.

He’s all long-limbed as usual, but more relaxed than he’s been the rest of the night. It’s funny, muses Derek. He’d thought Stiles was comfortable before, but while he’d clearly gotten along with Derek’s family, it’s only now that Derek can see the tension leave Stiles’ shoulders, and he wonders how much effort Stiles had been putting into finding a balance between approval and not going overboard.

“My family seemed to like you,” offers Derek, eyes catching on Stiles’ lips, and he looks away quickly when Stiles bites at his lip, knowing better than to get into bed with a boner like he’s sixteen and pretty much permanently horny.

He focuses instead on hanging up the towel in the bathroom and shutting the fan off while Stiles’ answers.

“I wasn’t trying too hard?” asks Stiles, sounding worried.

“If you were, I don’t think anyone could tell. Sammy and Boyd don’t take to too many people and Cora’s usually, well the nice way to put it is she’s usually much more interrogative.”

“Oh. Well good. I guess.” There’s an odd catch in Stiles’ voice, but when Derek returns to the room and gets in his side of the bed, Stiles is all smiles again.

“Thank you,” says Derek.

“For sharing the bed? Cuz I kind of figured that was a given.”

“No, for putting in the effort with my family. I mean, its not like you really need them to like you.”

“Right, of course not,” says Stiles. There’s a hint of bitterness in his tone. “But if your choice in dates turned out to be as horrible as your mom’s or Laura’s, I figured they’d be right back on your case again. At least this way they’ll probably leave you alone for a while right?”

Derek grimaces. “Hopefully.”

It seems that’s the end of the discussion, because Stiles slides down onto the pillows and flicks off the light on his side of the bed.

Derek sets an alarm on his phone--the plan is to go skiing the next day which requires early risers--and follows Stiles’ example.

He lies on his back for a while, trying to fall asleep. Turning away doesn’t work, and turning towards Stiles feels uncomfortable, but he normally sprawls out on his back and he feels restricted. Stiles is equally restless, squirming in little movements, and turning towards Derek then back again, then to his stomach, and back to facing Derek.

Derek takes a chance and tries to inch out the leg closer to Stiles, stealing a little bit of room. He bumps into Stiles before he’s barely stretched. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

He tries again a few minutes later, with another awkward bump, and then Stiles gives an exasperated sigh. “Fuck it.” Derek’s eyes are mostly adjusted to the dark by this point, but he still feels more than sees Stiles sit up. “Spread out like you normally would if I wasn’t here,” directs Stiles.

“Are you…?”

“I’m sure.”

Derek sprawls out, his arm across the mattress at the bottom of Stiles’ pillow, his legs not spread too far, but enough to give him some actual space. “This is how I normally sleep. I feel like this isn’t going to work for you.”

He’s pretty sure Stiles gives him a “bitch please” look in response. “Okay, just go with me for a minute,” says Stiles. Derek nods and waits. Stiles leans back, twists onto his stomach and moves up against Derek, bending one knee to tuck between Derek’s legs, his chest just barely resting on Derek’s, and one arm reaching across Derek’s torso. “I usually sleep starfished across my bed on my stomach,” admits Stiles.

Derek deliberately tells his dick it is not allowed to react to that image.

“So if we can deal with a semblance of cuddling,” continues Stiles, “this might be the best sleep we get all night.”

Derek settles in a bit. It’s...nice. Stiles is warm but not so much that it’s unbearable, and Derek can already feel himself growing sleepy, now that that bit of tension is gone. “This is definitely better than both of us squirming all night.”

“Great.” Stiles tucks his head in on the pillow over Derek’s shoulder. “Night, Derek.”

“Night, Stiles,” he echoes softly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very long chapter this time around.
> 
> A brief note: One scene in this chapter was originally posted as a one-shot. I wasn't sure I was going to keep it in this fic, so I posted it as a stand-alone, but I decided I liked it here after all. So if you read that scene, have read my other fic, and think "this seems familiar", you would be right. The one-shot is now deleted, so you'll only find that scene here.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

The bed is empty when Derek wakes up in the morning and it startles him to realize that emptiness is what woke him up. He rolls over and stretches out for his phone, sees that he has a good 45 minutes before his alarm goes off, and seriously considers going back to sleep. But a glance at the bathroom reveals that Stiles is out of the suite and Derek thinks he should probably make sure none of his family members are taking advantage.

Still, he takes another moment to sink into the barely there warmth, the lingering scent of Stiles on his sheets, and pushes away any thoughts that lead down a road of what if.

Once he’s pulled sweats and socks on, he makes his way downstairs.

Stiles is the only one in the kitchen and he’s being rather quiet as he mixes something by hand.

“Morning,” says Derek, a question in his voice.

“Good morning,” answers Stiles. “Sleep well?”

Derek nods. “Better than I have in ages. You?” They’re both keeping their voices low, to keep from waking anyone else.

A small, contented sort of smile plays at Stiles’ lips. “I slept well too. There’s coffee by the sink. I just used the French press to keep the noise down.”

Derek goes to pour himself a cup, while Stiles explains that he wanted to do something nice and he woke up early, so he decided to make a coffee cake for breakfast. Since he’s already got the coffee in hand, Derek tops off Stiles’ mug, adding a splash of whip cream and two shakes of the cinnamon container to it, just the way Stiles prefers his coffee.

“That was nice of you. My dad loves coffee cake and I love my mother, but baked breakfast goods are not her forte.”

“Pastries are a special skill,” smirks Stiles.

Derek laughs, then snorts uncontrollably when Stiles slaps a hand over his mouth. “Ssshhh!!!” Stiles removes his hand and wipes it on his sweats, making a face. “Gross.”

“You put your hand there,” notes Derek.

“Yes, and I know where your mouth has been,” retorts Stiles, wrinkling his nose. The possibilities of his words hit them both at the same time and Stiles blushes while Derek snickers all over again.

“Shut up,” mutters Stiles, but he’s laughing as he says it. He finishes the coffee cake while Derek makes up a fresh press of coffee and sets up the main coffee maker so it’s ready as soon as others start waking up. The next twenty minutes are spent cutting up fruit and making up sausage patties for the griddle.

The easy banter continues to flow, the way it always does at the cafe between himself and Stiles, and Derek’s struck once again by how different this could be if Stiles wasn’t just another college student, if he was actually someone more settled down, who’s future wasn’t wide open and likely to take him away. Not that Derek is interested in something serious. But still, it’d be nice if life worked out a little better.

Stiles is all smiles and laughter as they work, teasing Derek about little details and telling him he should include a little booklet of favorite recipes in his writing projects, as food brings families together.

Boyd is the first to walk, in a bleary-eyed Sammy in his arms, just as Stiles is taking the coffee cake out of the oven and preparing to drizzle frosting over the top.

“Aren’t you two domestic?” observes Boyd as he pours juice for his son.

“I’m just the sous chef,” says Derek, and he leans in to kiss Stiles’ cheek, playing up the role of adorable boyfriends. “Stiles is the real talent. You’re just lucky I brought him along.”

Stiles’ smile is almost too bright as he says “best breakfast cook in town, that’s me,” and he focuses a bit more than Derek thinks is absolutely necessary on the frosting, before moving on to say good morning to Sammy.

He thinks about asking Stiles if something was wrong, but the rest of the family starts trickling in, and soon he’s distracted from his concern by the hustle and bustle of the day. They’re on the way to the ski resort before Derek even realizes that he’s barely been able to speak to Stiles since Boyd walked in that morning.

~

Derek finds he doesn’t know what to think about Stiles the rest of the day. They mix with his family on the ski runs, splitting up at times, skiing together down back trails, just going along with the others. He has more fun than he has with Sammy in ages when they work to teach him how to go on the bunny hill.

Stiles skis with Cora and Boyd a fair amount, as all three like the trick runs, while Derek and Laura race their parents through some of the trails and a couple runs set up slalom style.

Aria sticks with Sammy most of the time and as per usual, Peter decks himself out in the latest winter fashions and then sits in the lodge sipping coffee and judging people all day.

Stiles asks Derek about it at one point and Derek just shrugs it away. “Peter enjoys it and he grouches if we make him go out on the slopes,” he’d explained and that had been enough.

Derek’s thoughts from the morning stick with him. Stiles flirts and teases, in a way that fits their fake boyfriend deal, but there are moments when Derek is certain Stiles was staring at his ass or watching him in some way. It makes him wonder if it would be so bad if they hooked up over the weekend. A good hookup was all he really wanted in the first place, and this deal they’ve got could be enough to insure that it’s a weekend thing and that’s it.

Derek’s pretty sure that would be fine. He still wants to know what Stiles would be like in bed. This way there’s no real pressure. Like a holiday fling.

After that he’ll go back to talking to Stiles at the cafe, no pressure. Derek spends a lot of his time on the slopes convincing himself. He finally reasons that they’re too far apart in age, definitely after different things in life--him being career focused while Stiles is in college--but he wants this. Now he just has to play his cards right and hope Stiles is interested in the same thing.

~

While Derek isn’t exhausted by the end of the day, he’s more than ready to relax. The smell of chili fills the house and Talia promises to put cornbread in the oven while everyone changes into more comfortable clothing.

Stiles is already in sweats by the time Derek makes it up to their room, tugging his under-shirt over his head to change.

Derek looks and aches to touch, but holds himself back, going to change his own things. This isn’t real. He has to stop thinking that he’ll get anything beyond this weekend. “I hope Cora didn’t tire you out,” says Derek. His youngest sister had commandeered Stiles’ attention for most of the afternoon.

“Not too much,” says Stiles, bending over to sort through his suitcase for a shirt. Derek wonders if he’s doing it on purpose. He changes his own shirt and watches Stiles stretch, his back muscles rippling with the movement. “Though I imagine I’ll be sore tomorrow. I haven’t been skiing in a while.”

Derek shimmies into his flannel pajama pants and pads barefoot across the room. He’s being incredibly forward, but he places his hands on Stiles’ back and rubs his thumb against the lower muscles. “Let me guess, right here feels a little achey?”

“Yeah.” Stiles leans into Derek’s touch, and Derek puts a little effort in, actually massaging at the tension in Stiles’ back. “Okay, you’re never allowed to stop doing that.”

Derek keeps working his thumbs against Stiles, his hands holding his waist. He possibly tilts his fingers down as he works, hovering along the edge of the waistband, though he’s careful to keep his presence of mind and not go below. One is excusable, the other crosses boundaries. Derek badly wants to keep exploring though. Wants the freedom to slide his fingers under the edge, tug Stiles’ pants to his feet.

Derek would keep his hands where they are, use them to bend Stiles until he’s braced against the dresser, then he’d spread Stiles’ thighs and taste his fill, let his fingers knead the taut ass in front of him.

Stiles groans in front of him. “Fuck, it’s like your hands are magic.”

The sounds makes Derek wonder what other sounds he could get, if he could make Stiles beg. He’d make him speechless, eat him out until his asshole is slick and loose, then he’d turn Stiles around, shove him up on the dresser and fuck him until the walls shook. His dick twitches in his pants, just as Laura yells “Dinner!” from downstairs and Derek takes his hands away, trying not to be too obvious.

“Guess we should go eat,” says Derek.

“Yeah. Um, thanks, for that.” Stiles sounds awkward so Derek tries to ease the tension. “Sure. If you ask nicely tomorrow, maybe I’ll do it again. Since I apparently missed my life’s calling.”

Stiles grins. “Oh I can be nice.”

As soon as he’s dressed, Derek leads the way back downstairs. They fill bowls with chili in the kitchen, Derek puts a large piece of cornbread on the edge of his chili while Stiles breaks his into chunks and mixes it in. With dinner and sodas in hand, they both join his family in the living room, where most everyone has already claimed a seat.

The only open spot is the oversized chair, usually claimed by whoever is feeling coupley. Derek knows his family is just trying to be nice, but he still feels bad for Stiles, who has been nothing but considerate through all of this. He hesitates for a minute, not sure how to make this work. Stiles solves the problem as usual, taking Derek’s bowl out of his hands. “Sit,” he directs, then hands both bowls back to Derek. The sodas go on the table next to them. Stiles sits perpendicular, his butt on the chair and legs over Derek’s lap, and takes his chili. “This okay?” he asks in a low voice.

Derek nods. “I’m sorry about this.”

“At least they’re buying us,” whispers Stiles, before taking a spoonful of chili and turning back to the others. “Yum. This is amazing Ms. Hale.”

“Thank you, Stiles. It’s an old family recipe.”

Derek eats and ignores the gooey faces Laura keeps making.

“Any chance I can convince you to share the recipe with me?” asks Stiles. “Di Caife could use a good chili.”

“Your boss will let a barista pick recipes?” asks Cora, her tone echoing Derek’s silent surprise. His comes more from the fact that Di Caife has a very limited menu.

Stiles looks puzzled. “Well first, I think that any employer who isn’t willing to listen to employee feedback at every level is asking to fail. But also seeing as I am the boss, I can’t see it being much of a problem.”

“Owner? Derek said you were the barista,” pipes in Laura.

Derek panic and clenches his fist behind Stiles. He’s possibly about to have everything fall apart, because this is the sort of thing he should know, but he’s also pissed that Stiles apparently owns the coffee shop and has let him think he’s merely a barista all this time. And also, how the fuck does that work if he can’t afford college?

“I ask most people who know me to just say I work at Di Caife,” says Stiles, covering smoothly. “I love being hands-on and getting to know the customers and unfortunately when people learn who I am, their treatment of me vastly differs from how they treat my employees. I don’t care for preferential attitudes, and I really don’t like people who dismiss my staff as though blue collar workers don’t matter.”

“I suppose you probably don’t have too much paperwork for one coffee shop,” adds Laura, catching onto Stiles’ pissed off tone at the idea that customer service employees are lesser.

Stiles shakes his head. “For one, no. I’m lucky enough to have a good team to manage my company and I take the time to pay well and offer excellent benefits, so the turnover is limited.”

Derek has a million questions, not the least of which is how old is Stiles then, why didn’t he think any of this information mattered in their getting to know each discussion, does he not trust Derek with this information, and why the fuck is Stiles willing to go on this trip and take his money if he’s doing fine on his own? Not that he can ask any of them considering the ruse he’s trying to keep up.

“You have turnover eventually though. As employees move onto bigger and better things?” Derek’s father Paul joins in on the discussion.

“Not necessarily. I find that a lot of people enjoy the flexibility of coffee shop work, particularly those in creative fields, and really just need the benefits and socialization aspect. But no matter what level the job, people just want to be treated fairly.” Stiles reaches around Derek to put his empty bowl down and wiggles a bit in the chair against Derek’s leg as he seems to be warming to his subject. “It’s also not easy to get a job at one of my cafes. Employees have to put in a minimum of a year at one of the cart locations, and prove they deserve the cafe spot. I’ve had very few employees turn out to be a poor decision.”

Paul nods approvingly. “Can I ask how many cafes you’ve been able to sustain off this model? Unless that’s inappropriate.”

Stiles shakes his head. “Totally fine. Besides it’s pretty easy information to find online anyway. As of the location we opened a few months ago in Chapel Hill, Waking Dead Coffee operates 17 cafes and 95 coffee carts in college towns across the Eastern seaboard.”

Derek isn’t the only one who’s jaw drops. He expected an answer of five, maybe six at the most.

Cora speaks for everyone with a “Well hot damn.”

Stiles laughs. “It sounds a lot more impressive than it really is. The majority of my profits go right back into the stores, so I won’t be on any top CEO list anytime soon. I just like coffee.” He pushes himself off Derek’s lap. “Anyone mind if I get seconds?” he asks, disappearing into the kitchen as Talia shakes her head.

When Stiles comes back, the subject has changed to caroling, as is Hale family tradition.

“I think Stiles and I are going to stay here,” says Derek.

“Oh I don’t mind going.”

“Yeah,  but we haven’t had any real time alone since we got here,” insists Derek. “Mom and Dad don’t mind, do you guys?”

His parents shake their heads in unison. Stiles is clearly confused, but doesn’t contradict Derek’s words, and within the next hour the dishes are done and the house is empty.

 

“What the hell?!” snaps Derek as soon as he sees the last car drive away from his bedroom window. They’ve got a good three hours alone now, and Derek’s anger has been growing by the minute.

“Excuse me?” Stiles spins around, the book he’d been looking for in his suitcase in hand. “What crawled up your ass and died? Seriously, you’ve been acting weird ever since dinner.”

“Because you lied to me!”

“About what?”

“Oh gee, I don’t know, owning a successful chain of coffee shops. Not being in college. Taking the money for doing this. Hell, the fact that you’re clearly older. How many secrets are you keeping?” Derek glares at Stiles, folding his arms and leaning against the wall, righteous in his anger.

Stiles’ eyes flash with his own fury. If Derek wasn’t so upset, he’d be turned on right now. “I never lied to you about anything. I work at Di Caife. I told you my full name, if you didn’t choose to look me up, that’s not on me. Technically you haven’t even paid me yet for this and I didn’t even plan on taking the money anyway. It’s called a favor to a friend, which I thought we were. And when the fuck did I ever say I was in college?”

“You spent an hour ranting about the unfair costs of tuition,” returns Derek.

“Because the costs are unfair. I never said I was suffering from them!”

Derek opens his mouth to argue, only to realize that Stiles is right. All this time he’s been making assumptions, thinking he knows who Stiles is, when the reality is that he never bothered to ask. Unlike Stiles who’s actually been very inquisitive. Stiles is still yelling at him though, cutting off any attempt Derek might make to apologize.

“I can’t believe you right now! You’re the one who dragged me into this mess for some bullshit reason because you don’t know how to talk to your family and then you get pissed at me for trying to do you a favor? Fuck you.” Stiles has stalked his way across the room at this point, face only inches from Derek’s. “What the hell is your problem?”  His eyes are lit up, his cheeks flushed, and Derek knows he should apologize, should talk this out, should do a million different things.

He kisses Stiles instead, hard and insistent, his hands reaching out to hold Stiles’ forearms, holding  him close. Stiles makes a protesting noise for a split second, and then his hands are coming up to clench in Derek’s shirt, and he opens his mouth to Derek’s tongue, a soft little moan escaping as Derek pushes closer.

Derek pulls away for a moment, breathing heavily, staring into Stiles’ eyes. “You’ve been my problem for months,” he manages, his voice heavy. “So why don’t you tell me how to fix it?”

“Fuck me,” breathes Stiles. It’s an invitation.

Derek takes it, twisting Stiles around so his back is against the wall and kissing him again, this time with purpose. He slides his hands under Stiles’ shirt, pushing it up so he can swipe his thumbs across the nipples. He pulls away from Stiles’ lips, tilting his head down to bite at the raised bud, before soothing it with his tongue.

“Derek,” begs Stiles above him.

He pushes the shirt further up, licking and biting little marks into Stiles’ flesh, letting him pull the shirt the rest of the way off. Stiles’ hips roll against him and Derek grins at the feel of the hard cock against his thigh.

“Tell me what you want.” Derek works his way back up Stiles’ lips, swallowing his moan with another kiss.

“Fuck me. Please. I’ve wanted this for fucking months.” Stiles tugs at Derek’s shirt and Derek obliges by removing it.

He continues his suggestions. “The bed’s right there. I could lay you out on it, suck you off until you can’t even think.”

Stiles shakes his head. “I need...I need...”

“Tell me,” says Derek again, thumbs hooking in Stiles’ waistband and dropping the pants to the floor in one smooth movement. He positions his thigh between Stiles’ legs, letting one hand cradle Stiles’ neck, while the other strokes his cock. Stiles grinds against him, clearly desperate for friction. “C’mon baby,” says Derek. “What do you need?”

“I want it rough,” answers Stiles. He’s practically humping Derek’s leg at this point, rubbing frantically. “Want you to fuck me against the wall. Fuck me so deep I can taste it.”

Derek twists Stiles before he’s even done talking, pressing him against the wall, his hands moving away. “Stay,” he orders. He quickly removes his own pants, then grabs a condom and lube out of his nightstand before returning to Stiles. Derek slips two fingers into Stiles’ mouth. “Suck,” he orders. His dick rubs against the cleft of Stiles’ ass, prompting Stiles to move back against him.

The only sounds are the slurping noises Stiles makes around Derek’s fingers, the wetness of his tongue soaking into the skin. There’s a small voice in the back of Derek’s mind saying if he there’s no turning back if he doesn’t stop this now, but he’s willing to deal with this blowing up in his face tomorrow if he gets tonight. This is all he wanted in the first place anyway. He kisses the back of Stiles’ neck, nipping at his collarbone and gently tugs his fingers out of Stiles’ mouth.

Stiles pushes his legs further apart as Derek slides a finger in his ass, and Derek relishes the way Stiles keens at the sensation. “God you feel good,” he says, crooking his finger and making Stiles cry out. “I can’t wait to be inside you.”

He pushes the second finger in, moving them back and forth. The tight heat is almost overwhelming and Derek has to focus to keep from coming like a teenager.

“I’m good,” pants Stiles . His ass pushes back against Derek’s fingers, trying to take him deeper.

“You’re still so tight.”

“I said I’m good,” snaps Stiles. “Put the damn condom on and fuck me you bast...” Derek bends his fingers again, hitting just the right spot and he cries out and jolts upwards. “Bastard!” finishes Stiles. Derek just grins. But he also obeys, slipping out and rolling the condom over his cock, then slicking himself up.

He lines himself up, finger tracing along the edge of Stiles’ pucker, before he slowly presses him. If rough is what they both want, Derek’s more than happy to oblige, but he fully intends for this to be good for both of them. The sight of his dick disappearing into Stiles’ tight ass is one of the hottest things he’s even seen.

Derek pauses for a second once he’s all the way in, then pulls halfway out and thrusts in again, harder this time. He keeps it up, working his way to a punishing pace. “This rough enough for you?”

“Yes, yes, jesus fucking moses yes.” Stiles reaches down to stroke himself and Derek bats the hand away. “No. Hands at your side or pinching those pretty little nipples.”  
Stiles opts for the nipples, working himself and begging. “Please. Derek, please touch me.”

“I’ve got you,” says Derek, one hand gripping Stiles’ hip while the other reaches around to stroke his cock. “You’re so needy.”

“Mmm. Need you.”

Derek wraps his hand tighter, intent to get Stiles off first. He can tell Stiles is close, the cries are less coherent, just wordless pleas at this point. “Come for me, baby,” he whispers and Stiles shoots all over Derek’s hand, going almost boneless in his relief. Derek fucks him slowly as he recovers, and then Stiles is bending forward, bracing himself against the wall and Derek moves in powerful thrusts, once, twice, coming hard on the fourth one, and collapsing over Stiles’ back with a loud cry.

After a few minutes, Derek pulls out and throws away the condom, then wipes the come off his hand and tugs Stiles into bed, kissing him and running his hands up and down Stiles’ body, touching everywhere he can get his hands on.

He manages just enough presence of mind to throw a sheet over them in case anyone checks on them later, before he’s falling asleep, arm splayed over Stiles’ chest, Stiles’ head on Derek’s shoulder.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we reach the angst portion of our story.

In a very different turn of events from the previous morning, Derek wakes up to Stiles still in bed with him, and he feels far more awkward than he would have anticipated. Stiles is tucked against his side, and Derek breathes steadily until Stiles’ wakes on his own. “Um, hi,” he says, when Stiles’ blinks and focuses on Derek.

“Uh,” says Stiles eloquently. He shifts a little, pulling away from Derek.

He doesn’t really know what to say to that, not necessarily wanting the separation, but he tries to be respectful. Stiles seems uncomfortable and Derek thinks it’s probably because this is normally when a hookup makes their escape, doing the walk of shame (or walk of fame as Laura used to call it). Whatever it is, usually a night like he had with Stiles doesn’t end with three more days of pretending to be boyfriends during Christmas.

“Look, it’s not a big deal,” offers Derek.

Stiles’ eyes clearly have a question. “A big deal?”

“I mean last night,” Derek clarifies. “We were both emotional and we just had to get it out of our system.”

“Out of our system?” repeats Stiles.

“I know I shouldn’t have taken advantage of the situation, but I’ve kind of been wanting to fuck you for a while now, and I don’t really want to be sorry for that. But it’s cool. We’ll leave it at a hookup, make it through the next couple days, and I swear I won’t bother you again.” Derek thinks he sees Stiles mouth “fuck me” as another question, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead Stiles sits up and reaches on the ground for his boxers.

“Right, of course,” says Stiles. He’s not really looking at Derek, and Derek tries not to watch him dress. He fails a little bit--Stiles just has a really nice ass and Derek is only human--but he does his best. “So, back to faking it for three more days, not a problem. I’m gonna shower now if that’s cool.”

Derek nods. “Yeah, of course. I’ll just clean up in here and shower after you.”

“Great,” says Stiles, and if Derek didn’t know better, he’d say Stiles sounds bitter.

While Stiles is in the shower, Derek picks up their clothes that were still tossed about the room from the night before, folding Stiles’ clothes neatly and putting them on the chair, while he tosses his own in a drawer. The linen closet is just outside the suite, so he grabs fresh sheets--thankfully not running into anyone--and changes the bed over. They didn’t exactly do anything on the bed, but they were kind of gross by the time they fell asleep, and he thinks the sentiment counts.

Not that he really knows. It’s been awhile since he had a hookup, even longer since the person was actually sticking around. In fact, now that he thinks about it, Stiles would be the first person he’s slept with since he started writing at Di Caife almost a year ago. No wonder he was so damn horny.

Yesterday they were up early enough to go downstairs for coffee, and there still would be some, but Derek has the feeling Stiles won’t want to rush to join everyone. So he turns on the electric kettle that sits in the little table in the corner, and when the water is boiling, he makes up a French press of coffee, only having a small cup for himself. There’s cream in the mini-fridge and he sets it next to the press for Stiles’ use.

After about fifteen minutes, Stiles exits the shower. “Sorry, I took the time to shave,” he says. “There should be plenty of hot water though.”

“Thanks,” says Derek. “There’s coffee.”

“Awesome.”

Derek grabs his things and heads for the shower. Stiles still sounds off to him. Like the words are right and the tone sounds perfectly friendly, but it’s definitely not the same as it usually is. He doesn’t really know what to do about it though. Derek showers quickly and opts not to shave. Laura will complain about his unkempt stubble, not that he cares. Plus he’s pretty sure Stiles likes it that way. Not that he really needs to care about Stiles’ preferences.

Once he’s done, Stiles is fully ready to join the family, smiling at Derek though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Happy Christmas Eve.”

Derek smiles back. “Same to you.”

Once downstairs, the rest of the family--minus Aria and Peter who are still in bed--greet them.

“Good morning darling,” says Talia, kissing Derek’s cheek. She hugs Stiles. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you,” answers Stiles, hugging her back. Derek goes to pour a new cup of coffee while Stiles gets hellos from the others. When he sees Stiles bouncing Sammy on his lap at the kitchen table, Derek fixes Stiles one as well, and snitches two cinnamon rolls from the pan his mother pulls out of the oven.

Talia smacks his hand. “I haven’t even frosted those yet.”

Derek nods his head at Stiles, who is busy carrying on a conversation with Sammy and unaware of anyone else. “We’re hungry.”

“Ooh, I wonder why,” teases Cora.

Stiles pales and blushes in turn, before focusing back on the toddler in his arms.

Derek flicks a napkin at Cora. “Brat. It’s breakfast time. Normal people are hungry at breakfast.”

“Sure, sure,” says Cora, raising her hands to indicate dropping the subject.

Talia finishes frosting the cinnamon rolls and hands the plates back to Derek. “The bacon should be ready by the time you two are ready for seconds.”

Cora reaches over Stiles’ head to pick up Sammy as Derek sits down. “C’mere cutie. Time to have fun with your favorite aunt.” She swings him up in the air and Sammy giggles and makes little spit bubbles at her.

“Thank you,” Stiles nudges Derek as he picks up his fork. “For the coffee too.”

“Sure,” says Derek quietly. “I told you I wasn’t going to make this some sort of awkward morning after thing. Back to friends.”

Stiles frowns. “Friends. Right.” He turns back to his plate. Other than saying hello when Aria joins the group, Stiles doesn’t say much while eating, and Derek figures he’s still feeling a bit awkward so he tries to engage with everyone else and give Stiles some space.

~

Several hours later, Derek is outside in the backyard making snow angels with most of the family. His dad was napping--he tended to have trouble sleeping at night and usually napped after breakfast if he wasn’t working--and Stiles had requested to stay inside, wanting to make some sort of pastry for dinner that Derek couldn’t pronounce.

“Derek!” He turns to see Stiles in the doorway, waving him over.

“What’s up?” he asks as he makes his way over to the porch.

“Could you drive me into town? I’m missing a couple things for the kolaches.”

“Did you ask my mom?” asks Derek once he’s close enough that they can speak in normal tones.

Stiles shakes his head. “I looked but couldn’t find anything. I didn’t want to interrupt everyone. You guys looked like you were having too much fun.”

He seems hesitant about something, but Derek shrugs. “Yeah that’s fine. Lemme grab my keys and tell Cora we’re heading out.” His keys are on the front table in the hallway, though he could have sworn he hung them on the little key rack, but Derek grabs them up and motions for Stiles to follow. The drive into town is fairly quiet. When they get closer, initially pulling up to the town Starbucks, Stiles finally talks. “Can you pull in here?”

Derek didn’t realize just how much he’d missed Stiles’ normal chatter. “I can’t believe you’re cheating on Di Caife, but sure,” he says, smiling to indicate the joke.

Stiles gives him a sort of half-grin. Once he’s parked, Derek is out the car and halfway to the door before he realizes Stiles isn’t behind him. He turns to see Stiles handing a suitcase to a guy who looks to be in his late 20s. The guy puts the suitcase in the car and seems to be saying something to Stiles, not that Derek can tell what it is. There’s a girl with curly blonde hair in the backseat of the car, and the glare on her face has Derek worried.

“Stiles?”

Stiles shakes his head at the guy, then walks back to Derek. “Inside,” he says.

“What’s going on? Who is that? Wait, that’s your suitcase, isn’t it? Are you leaving? Why are you leaving?” Derek’s pretty sure he sounds panicky but he just doesn’t get it.

“Just come inside, please,” insists Stiles, and Derek follows for lack of anything else to do.

The shop is busier than Derek would expect for Christmas Eve, so they’re able to sit in a back corner without immediately ordering anything. “That’s Scott and Erica,” begins Stiles. “My best friends that I told you about. They’re here to pick me up.”  
“Pick you up? But what about the kolache ingredients?”

“They’re done, Derek.” Stiles suddenly looks incredibly tired and worn out, like he’s been holding himself together for awhile and Derek just never noticed.  “I just said that to get out of the house and not make a scene in front of your family. I’m sorry. I really am. I wanted to be able to help you and be a good friend. It was something at least…” He trails off and Derek’s left all the more confused.

“Stiles, I don’t understand.”

Stiles puts a hand over Derek’s, squeezing gently. “I can’t do this, Derek. I thought I could pretend to date you even though you clearly...well, regardless, I just can’t. After last night and this morning. I need to be with my friends and my family and I’m sorry. I think you should tell your family the truth, because you deserve their respect, and I get the feeling they really do care about your happiness, they just don’t know how to best show that. But if you can’t, just say I had a family emergency and had to leave and didn’t want to worry them.”

“But...but…Stiles?” Derek’s completely lost and he doesn’t even fucking know why he’s so upset.

Stiles stands up, his hand moving to tilt Derek’s chin up. He leans in and kisses Derek, and he tastes salty and damp, and Derek isn’t sure why Stiles is kissing him or why it matters so much that he not stop, but his hands clench around the edges of Stiles’ jacket, trying to hold on. “I’m sorry,” whispers Stiles, pulling away.

He’s gone before Derek can frame a coherent thought.

~

“So he’s gone for the rest of the holidays?” questions Laura. “Or just for the night? You should have gone with him, Derek, we would have understood.”

Derek had taken nearly two hours to return home. He’d ordered a drink, then sat there staring at it until it grew cold, before moving to his car and sitting until the windows started to frost over. Then he finally drove home. His family had been in the living room, playing games, reading and Peter was showing Cora how to knit, when he’d arrived. He tried using Stiles’ excuse, not really sure what else to do. But as Laura and his mother and the others keep questioning him, and he kept trying to go over in his head what went so wrong that Stiles had to leave, it’s just too much.

“You would have understood?!” he snaps at Laura. “Really? How about you understand this then? Stiles and I weren’t actually together. I write at his coffee shop and I lied and told Mom I had a boyfriend because you two won’t leave me the fuck alone. So what if I’m single? I didn’t ask to be set up. I didn’t ask for you to pick people based solely on what has to be the fact that they’re bisexual and thought I was hot because I’ve had absolutely nothing in common with any of them. Stiles was trying to do me a favor. To give me a chance to spend the holidays with my family, which is all I ever want to do, without having every spare moment be about setting me up with the flavor of the week.”

Derek paces as he talks, clenching and unclenching his fists, the words spewing now that the dam has finally burst. “Do you understand that he was willing to give up Christmas with his family for me? Because you have gotten so obsessed with setting me up that he knew I would be sitting alone in my apartment if he didn’t tag along and spare me from the fact that I’m apparently worthless to you if I’m not romantically involved?”

“Derek, we’re sorry,” tries his mother. “I just want to see you happy. I never meant for you to think that was the only thing that mattered.”

Laura’s shaking her head too. “I swear, Derek, I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

He continues like they haven’t even spoken. “But I just don’t understand why he left.” Derek sinks into the closest chair, his voice trailing away. “I don’t know why I miss him. I don’t...It’s not even real.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI: By mistake, I referenced Stiles knowing Lydia earlier in the fic. I’ve since changed that, as Lydia intentionally comes into play in this chapter. Also, this story has added a chapter, because I like the place this one ended.

Derek goes out to the workshed for a little while, wanting to vent his anger, and figuring banging things with a hammer might help with that.

He’s there about an hour when Cora comes in.

“Get out,” snaps Derek, not even looking at the door.

“Nope.”

“Cora, I’m not in the mood.”

Cora hops up on the counter and makes a pouty face at him. “Good, neither am I. Now, lets you and I have a little talk, because you are a fucking moron.”

Derek puts the hammer down and turns to glare at his sister. “Weren’t you just there for that talk where Mom and Laura agreed that meddling is bad?”

“I was!” beams Cora, as though he’s a puppy who’s earned a treat. He glares harder. “I did not agree to anything however, which is why I’m here.”

Derek sighs heavily. “Cora, please.”

“Look, I’m not gonna stay long and I promise I won’t push too much. But I think you should know what Stiles talked about when I was helping him cook this morning, before I came out to join the rest of you.” Cora’s tone is calm but serious and Derek takes a deep breath and prepares to listen. He’s still not in the mood to hear any opinions, but his little sister doesn’t make a habit of giving advice, preferring the same live and learn approach as their uncle Peter. He motions for her to go ahead.

“Seeing as I thought this was a legitimate boyfriend, I wanted to do my own interrogation.” Cora pauses when Derek gives her a dirty look. “Oh, like you didn’t give Lydia the full degree when you met her last summer.”

Derek acquiesces. “Fine.”

“Anyway, I asked Stiles a lot of questions. Why coffee shops, what his friends are like, his home life, Marvel or DC, Yankees or Red Sox, chocolate with peanut butter or mint, the usual.”

“And?”

“He likes the Mets,” says Cora, wrinkling her nose. “I can’t imagine why.”

“Cora!”

“Right, right. So these are all questions about Stiles. Except every answer came back to you. And not in a trying to suck up to the family kind of way like that idiot Matt that Laura dated back in high school.” Derek and Cora shudder at the same time. Laura still pleaded temporary insanity over that one. “Stiles talked about wanting a coffee shop so people like you could have a retreat, a place to work that still felt like home, while still being a place to get away. Which turned into ten minutes telling me about your latest work, in detail. It took three words to tell me he loves Reeses but another fifteen minutes describing his work at perfecting a peppermint patty mocha with just the right balance of creme de menthe whip cream because someone loves mint and chocolate but doesn’t like super sweet drinks.”

Derek feels a little of the anger leave him. He remembers Stiles’ excitement over that new drink on the menu and it really was good. So good Derek orders it a lot. “He said all that?”

Cora nods. “It didn’t matter what I asked about him, all he did was bring the topic back to you, and I promise you Derek, he didn’t even realize he was doing it most of the time. I’m not Mom or Laura with their true love, romantic comedies are real. I like the stories of the sidekick characters in those anyway, the ones who fight and bicker and become friends and fall in love because they chose too, not because someone touched a hand at the right moment.” She reaches out and squeezes Derek’s hand, and he appreciates that she ignores the shakiness he’s feeling. “Stiles loves you, Derek. He might not be in love with you and I won’t presume to know how you feel. But believe me, he was never in this for a favor or money or any other petty reason. And if you feel as strongly about him as I think you do, you should go find him and be honest with him.”

“And if he turns me down?” asks Derek in a quiet voice that must cause Cora to decide to hug him.

“Then he’s an idiot. And he’s hurting. You accept his answer, you give him time, and you be his friend again. And if you get another chance, don’t fuck it up.”

Derek snorts at that last bit, appreciating Cora’s ability to leave on a less sappy note. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now here, take my car. That over compensating thing you insist on driving isn’t safe in all this snow.”

“I don’t know where Stiles is,” protests Derek, choosing to ignore the slight against his car.

Cora grins. “You don’t. But my Lydia also happens to be Allison’s best friend, who is dating Scott, Stiles’ best friend. Turns out Stiles’ friends meddle on levels that rival Laura on her worst day.”

Derek takes the keys and the address and leaves before he can lose his nerve.

~

Stiles’ parents live a little south of New Haven, so it takes Derek some time to get there. Enough time to start seriously panicking. He makes it to New Haven, taking the right exit to get to the next freeway, when he suddenly has to pull over into a McDonald’s parking lot, where he takes quick, shallow breaths, trying to get ahold of himself before he loses control. When his breathing steadies, he lets the car idle while he thinks through what he’s doing.

He can’t just go to Stiles if he doesn’t have a plan. Derek’s not so full of himself that he thinks he could memorize some sort of heart-warming speech. The odds are more likely that he’ll insult Stiles at some point and say fuck a lot.

Clearly, not the most appealing confession of...something.

And that’s the other part of the problem. He knows Stiles is something to him now. What that something is, he doesn’t know, and he probably can’t figure it out in a day. Derek thinks that maybe if he can at least know what he wants, he can be okay with saying that and leaving Stiles time to decide what he wants.

The more Derek thinks about it though, the more he realizes he just wants Stiles. That the very idea of not having Stiles around, of not sitting at Di Caife and waiting for the shadow of Stiles’ body to lean across his table, of not getting a lecture about whatever obscure topic captured Stiles’ interest that day, all those things terrify Derek. He wants, maybe even needs Stiles, and something finally settles in his heart as he realizes that.

All of his self-reassurance does very little good when he pulls up in front of the Stilinski home. He takes a deep breath at the door, then pushes the doorbell before he can second guess himself.

An older woman with dark brown hair, feathered with gray, eyes that seem to dance, and one of the most garish Christmas sweaters Derek has ever seen opens it. She purses her lips at him for a moment, fingers tapping against the door frame the same way Stiles does at the cafe. “Hello, Derek,” she says.

“Um, hello. You know who I am? Wait, I’m sorry, who are you?” Derek stammers and pales for a second, realizing this is obviously someone related to Stiles. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude.”

“I’m Claudia Stilinski,” comes the answer. “Stiles’ mother.”

Derek wonders if its possible to look white as a sheet. “Oh shit. I mean.”

“Oh shit is probably a good place to start,” responds Claudia, though she grins at him as she says it. Her hand takes Derek’s arm as she joins him outside and the door is pulled shut behind her. “Now, I have an assumption about why you’re on my doorstep mere hours after my son came home in tears and refusing to talk to his best friends and acting like the petulant brat I thought I left back with puberty, so I’m going to ask a few questions, and I expect honest answers. Should I approve of these answers, and I will know if you lie, you can come inside.”

Derek nods, not sure what else to say. And he thought his mother was terrifying.

“Excellent. First, did you know that Stiles was in love with you when you asked him to pretend to be your boyfriend?”

“No. No, I swear, I didn’t even mean to get him involved, he was just on my mind, he’s always on my mind and I didn’t realize…” Claudia holds her hand up and he stops.

“Had you known of his feelings, even on a smaller scale, would your actions have changed over this weekend? I think I know the answer but…”

Derek agrees more succinctly this time. “I would have been more considerate, yes.”

“Do you care for my son?” asks Claudia, her voice softer now.

“I…” Derek hesitates, torn between honesty and trying to appease the woman in front of him. He goes for honesty. “I do. I don’t know if it’s the same way that he cares for me, but I think I could. Either way though, when Stiles left...I couldn’t...I can’t imagine my life without him as a part of it anymore. And I think I might very possibly feel the same way, but I’d like to talk to Stiles before I tell anyone else that.”

Claudia’s hand never left his arm and now Derek feels the gentle pressure as she squeezes his arm. “That’s all I needed to know. C’mon, I’ll show you to his room.”

They make their way up into the house and up the stairs, to stop in front of a room at the end of the hall. Claudia turns to Derek. “I’m trusting you to fix this,” she says quietly. “I don’t know you, but I know my son, and his love has always been reserved for people worthy of it, even if they mess up. But I am also the wife of a sheriff, and I know many detailed ways to kill you and never get caught if you hurt him.”

“I understand,” says Derek, thinking that if Stiles doesn’t forgive him, he may have to move across the country.

With a final pat to his arm, Claudia opens the door, beckoning at someone inside. A man exits and kisses her cheek, giving Derek a stern look and an almost approving nod and Derek doesn’t even know what his life is that he just met both of Stiles’ parents and they haven’t killed him. He makes his way inside the room, shutting the door behind him and staring for a long moment. Stiles sits on the bed, his head bowed in his hands. He hasn’t even looked up and Derek is fairly sure Stiles thinks he’s alone. And in those seconds, as Derek can watch Stiles without reservation, can see the strength in his hands, the determination in his entire being to be strong and steady, the last bit of unsurety slips away. He takes a step forward and Stiles looks up.

“Derek? What are you doing here?” Stiles’ eyes are red. Derek hates himself a little, knowing he’s the cause, but he tries to remember that he didn’t hurt Stiles on purpose, and he’s here to fix his accidental mistake. “Derek?” asks Stiles again. “What do you want?”

Derek takes a deep breath. “I want it to be real.”


	7. Chapter 7

Derek waits maybe fourteen seconds before Stiles answers--sort of--by flinging himself off the bed and at Derek. Derek goes thudding back against the door as Stiles kisses him, all flailing limbs and red eyes and perfect, perfect, perfect. Derek’s known what kissing Stiles is like a couple times now, but this is vastly different, because he knows what he really wants out of it. He slips his hands around Stiles’ hips, pulling him flush against him, kissing Stiles in a way he’s been wanting to for months and yet it’s so much more. Stiles’ tongue presses against the seam of Derek’s lips and Derek lets him in easily, his fingers tightening as though he might somehow pull Stiles impossibly closer.

They kiss for long moments, so long Derek starts losing track of time. He briefly registers Stiles reaching a hand around to lock the door, and then Stiles is tugging him towards the mussed bed, one leg pushing between Derek’s own legs, grinding against him and Derek is powerless to keep his moans silent. Derek lets Stiles twist them around and push him back onto the bed, while he pushes Stiles’ shirt up and over his head, before tugging off his own. It’s not until they’re both down to their underwear, Stiles straddling Derek’s thighs and looking impossibly tempting, that Derek regains a bit of awareness.

“Stiles,” he says, pushing up on his elbows. Stiles swipes his thumbs over Derek’s nipples and he nearly loses his train of thought. “Stiles, wait.” He grabs Stiles’ wrists and holds them still.

“Derek,” whines Stiles, rolling his ass against Derek’s cock.

“Stiles,” he repeats. “I want...Jesus fuck do I want this right now, but I don’t understand. Why? What is this? Is it some sort of revenge thing or…”

He’s cut off. “Revenge?” Stiles sounds more hurt than offended, which Derek hates that he’s caused.

“Not revenge. I just...Stiles, you were so upset earlier today. And I don’t want to do this if it’s just going to mean me having to put my clothes back on in an hour, walk past your family and friends, and never see you again. I need to know why.”

Stiles relaxes, sinking back against Derek’s legs and taking the pressure--and pleasure--away for a moment. “If I promise to tell you the full story later, can we have sex after the short version?”

Derek nods because that is a plan he is definitely okay with. “Absolutely.”

Stiles smiles softly, in a way he hasn’t since this whole mess began. “The short version is that I ranted to my friends, who supported me and slandered your character as all good friends should until I apparently complained too long in which case they tried to consider your perspective and I pouted, and then I came home and my parents sat me down like I was fourteen again and told me that I was an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” protests Derek.

“Oh, but I am. Don’t get me wrong, I know my parents will always have my back, but they’ve always been tell it straight kind of people. Anyway, Dad pointed out that I never actually told you I had feelings for you. You asked for what boils down to a job and a favor, to pretend to be your boyfriend for a few days, and I said yes because I’ve been crazy about you for a while now. And though they both agreed that I was right to remove myself from the situation, I wasn’t right to blame you.” Stiles sighs and Derek reaches a hand up and runs his thumb soothingly over Stiles’ cheek. “Anyway,” Stiles continues, “I figured I’d wait until after Christmas to try and apologize and offer to be friends again. But then you were here and saying you wanted this to be real and I didn’t really see any point in prolonging either of our misery.”

Derek practically surges upward to kiss Stiles, cupping his face in both hands and making this particular kiss deep and lingering.

“I take it that means we’re okay?” questions Stiles, laughter in his voice.

“So okay,” murmurs Derek against Stiles’ lips. “So incandescently, perfectly okay.”

Stiles wiggles a little so he’s kneeling between Derek’s legs instead of straddling them. “Awesome. Then can I blow you now or did you want me to keep using my mouth to talk?”

Derek doesn’t mean to shove Stiles down quite that hard, he swears he doesn’t, but Stiles bursts into laughter and digs his teeth into the waistband of Derek’s boxers, so he figures it’s okay.

Derek’s always thought he was the type to take control during sex--and until this point he has been--but as Stiles wraps his lips around Derek’s cock, Derek can’t help but let his head fall back against the sheets, whimpering a little as he does so. Stiles was angry the night before, his movements harsh and biting and desperate. This is needy in a completely different world, one Derek thinks he’d like to stay in for a while.

Stiles sucks and licks and makes these pleased little noises every so often. Derek’s focus boils slowly down to nothing but wet heat. Sex might usually be a two person affair, but he has no idea how to contribute. Not that Stiles seems to care about being left to his own devices.

Derek’s close, so painfully, exquisitely close when Stiles raises his head up just a little. His lips are swollen and bright red and he has a Puckish grin dancing across them. “Derek,” he says huskily and Derek whines low in his throat in reply. “Come for me,” says Stiles, his breath ghosting hot over Derek’s tip as he speaks and Derek is helpless to do anything but obey.

When he manages to recover a few minutes later, he pushes himself up to return the favor, only for Stiles to grin sheepishly. “I mentioned I had a bit of a thing for you right?”

Derek thinks that’s possibly the hottest compliment he’s ever received. So he responds the only way he knows how, tugs Stiles up next to him so they’re facing each other, then tangles their legs together, wrapping his arm around Stiles’ waist. “Now what?” he asks after several minutes pass with the two of them staring at each other.

“Now we get up and get dressed. I take my suitcase that was never unpacked and put it in your car. You meet my friends and family properly and then we go back to your family’s,” answers Stiles. “If you’ll have me that is.”

Derek puzzles at him, unsure why Stiles would want to go back. And he says as much. “I want you too, of course, but…”

Stiles smiles at him, that one Derek is starting to think might just be for him. “You wanted Christmas with your family, Derek. I’m not feeling overly generous despite the season, so I don’t intend to let you leave my side, but I’m happy to go along.”

“Really?”

“I like your family. I think I’d like them even more if I knew I could stick around a while.”

Derek’s fingers tighten on Stiles’ waist. “Stick around a long while please.”

~

The first person that greets them downstairs is Scott. Stiles introduces them and Derek reaches his hand out in greeting.

Scott grins and shakes his hand firmly. “Nice to meet you, Derek. Just so you know, if you ever hurt Stiles on purpose, I’ll…” He pauses and looks at Derek again. “Well I probably can’t kick your ass but I can make your life a living hell. I’m very good at showing up on doorsteps at 3am half-drunk with the smelliest food I can find.”

Derek tries to hold back a laugh and nods. “I definitely don’t plan on hurting Stiles.” He ignores the faces Stiles and Scott make at each other over that.

“I’m Erica,” says the blonde, reaching out to shake his hand next. Her grip is distinctly tighter than Scott’s, enough that Derek winces the tiniest bit. “I will kick your ass. Which would be unfortunate. It’s a really nice ass.”

“Erica!” yelps Stiles.

“Oh please. Like you didn’t send me a picture the first time he came into the shop.”

Stiles blushes deep red when Derek turns towards him.

Meeting everyone else isn’t too bad. Most are polite, not seeming as aware of the drama, though Stiles’ grandparents give him more than a quick onceover and Allison hugs him then whispers that she knows 22 ways to kill a man with her bare hands, just fyi.

Derek thinks she would get along wonderfully with Laura. They should probably never meet.

It takes another hour to get away, between the loading of the car and the way Sheriff Stilinski keeps insisting on adding treats to a box, saying the least they can do is share a few leftover goodies.

Stiles protests. Derek just chooses to point out that he really likes those twisted candy cane cookies.

But eventually, the last well wisher goes inside and they’re left alone.

“To my parents?” asks Derek as the door shuts behind Stiles.

“Actually can you stop at Di Caife first?” requests Stiles. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Derek nods and intertwines his free hand with Stiles’ as he drives.

~

Since the cafe’s closed for Christmas, it takes a few minutes to warm up the place. “Will you turn the fireplace on while I make us a couple drinks?” asks Stiles from behind the counter.

Derek stares at Stiles’ ass for a minute. “Uh, yeah sure. I would’ve thought you’d want a wood-burning fireplace,” he says once he finds the right switch.  

“I did,” comes the answer over the sound of steaming milk. “But I needed a bunch of other permits for it and the cost plus the risk ultimately wasn’t worth it.” A minute later Stiles emerges with two mugs in hand, one of which he hands to Derek before settling them both on the couch in front of the fire.

“So who’s this person I’m meeting?” asks Derek, unabashedly tucking his feet under Stiles’ legs.

Stiles blushes slightly and sticks out his free hand. “Hi. I’m Stiles.”

“Um,” says Derek eloquently.

“I own this cafe. Well, I own a lot of cafes,” continues Stiles. “I’ve got a great pair of parents and I solve mystery books within the first three chapters and I’m addicted to those bugle chips and putting them on my fingers and I’m kind of crazy about you. I thought maybe you should meet the guy who said yes to Christmas with strangers, instead of the barista you thought you knew.”

Derek smiles. Now he gets it. “It’s really nice to meet you, Stiles.” He sort of squirms against Stiles in a way that is more about getting closer than being uncomfortable. After a few minutes of sipping their coffee and staring at each other until one or the other blushes and looks away, Derek sets his mug down. “Why coffee shops in the first place? It seems like you could do anything and making it in this particular business certainly isn’t easy.”

Stiles puts his own cup away and leans in closer. “I wanted to create a place where people felt like they belonged. A refuge of sorts.”

“Like a home away from home?”

“Not exactly. Home is comfortable and all, but it’s not always a place to feel special. I wanted to create an environment that made people want to come in and know they’d be recognized, that they mattered. Even my coffee carts have regulars because I train the employees to remember the students.”

“You really think it matters that much?” Derek’s not trying to be mean, just wondering.

“I think people get lost in the crowd all the time,” answers Stiles, “And sometimes all we really need is someone who knows we don’t like foam on our hazelnut latte.”

Derek can see that. Even if it’s one of the other employees, he does like knowing that they all know his drink and that his table is often reserved for him. “That’s really special.”

Stiles shrugs. “I learned it from my mom. She knew every single student she ever had, even 20 years later. And you could really tell it mattered to them. I wanted to be able to matter to people like that.”

“You matter to me,” offers Derek. “Not just like now that we’re, um, well whatever we’re doing. But like even just the cafe. I get so isolated at my apartment and I feel like I have friends here, people who know me. But also not people who push you know? My family is big on relationships and relationships the way they define them. But I’m not. I can develop just as strong a relationship with someone in the past, as long as I get to know them. Coming into Di Caife always makes me feel like there are people who care about me, but aren’t going to push unnecessarily.”

He’s barely finished talking before Stiles is leaning in and kissing him. “You’re kind of perfect,” he says. Derek’s pretty sure that isn’t true but he’ll take it.

“I suppose we should go,” says Stiles after a few minutes go by and starts to stand.

Derek tugs him back down, curling them both into the corner of the couch. “Or we could stay here a little bit longer. Just the two of us.”

“I’d like that.” Stiles burrows in closer to his side. “This, being here, now it feels real. We feel real.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an epilogue after this.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intended to make this chapter longer, with more family interaction, but somehow that chapter got deleted and I had to rewrite this ending. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it. Thanks to everyone who has commented or left kudos or bookmarked or even just read it. I appreciate all of you. And Happy Christmas!

“Seriously, Derek, where is it?!”

“Where is what?” Derek pokes his head over the balcony of the second story. He has no idea why they thought it would be a good idea to have a loft library over the living room and kitchen. Okay, he does know, it’s because both he and Stiles like having a retreat to read that isn’t his office or Di Caife. But it’s mostly turning into an excuse for Stiles to yell throughout the house.

“The whip cream,” comes back to him in Stiles’ less than dulcet tones. “I need it for the hot cocoa and everyone will be here soon and I’m not even close to ready and…”

Derek walks away and ignores whatever came next. He finds the whip cream dispenser half rolled under the bed, from where they used it last night. Stiles was planning his menu for the next day and brought it up and well one thing lead to another. He shuffles down the stairs with that, a pair of socks for Stiles who is likely to be hopping around on cold feet, and the blanket for Scott and Allison’s latest, since he’s pretty sure Stiles will ask about that shortly.

“Here. We might need more.” He leans over the counter to kiss Stiles.

Stiles beams at him. “Thank you.”

“We have about half an hour to change our minds,” says Derek, not really meaning it. Mostly.

“You don’t want to host Christmas?!” shrieks Stiles.

Derek kisses him before he can work himself into a state. “I want to. It’s just a lot. Both of our families together, under our roof. It’s asking for crazy.”

“I kinda like your brand of crazy.” Stiles smiles back at him, relaxing. “Besides, it’ll be fine. Everyone’s already met, how bad can it be?”

Derek hurriedly knocks on the cabinet next to him to ward off that jinx and rolls his eyes at Stiles.

~

Stiles’ words don’t end up jinxing them. At least no more than usual. Scott and Allison arrive first with their three kids. Allison is as ever the picture of calm, tucking Tori into one arm and sipping on eggnog as she sits with Boyd on the couch, who holds Aspen--his and Laura’s youngest--as she sleeps.

Scott sits on the counter with Erica, feeding the older kids pieces of cookies whenever they come screaming through on breaks from snowball fights. Derek would suggest against filling the kids up with sugar, but then none of them belong to him so he’s not overly concerned.

Plus judging by the sympathetic looks Scott and Stiles both keep giving Erica, he’s pretty sure Claudia and Laura have her next on the list of people to set up.

The rest of their family members are scattered through the house and property, the sounds of laughter in the air. Over the years, Derek’s gotten used to having people around again, and sometimes he can’t believe he ever missed out on this.

“So let’s see this mistletoe kiss you two are so famous for.” Lydia sweeps in on Cora’s arm, kissing Derek’s cheek and then Stiles’ in greeting.

And suddenly Derek remembers why he’s okay still living several hours away from family.

“Again?” protests Stiles. He sounds half-hearted about it at best.

“C’mon, it’s the best part of Christmas,” insists Cora.

“But every year?”

“It’s tradition.”

Derek sighs and drags Stiles over to the doorway. “One time,” he admonishes the others. “That’s all you get.”

Stiles fake swoons in his arms. “Such a romantic.”

Derek grins. He slips his hands around Stiles’ hips, drawing him in close. The sounds of shuffling feet indicate the growing audience around them. He leans in and kisses Stiles, starting soft, then harder, allowing a brief flick of his tongue inside Stiles’ mouth before pulling back and smiling at him. Five years after that first mistletoe kiss, he really does love these moments. "Love you, Stiles," he says softly.

"Love you back."

“Like I always say,” comes Talia’s voice from behind them. “Mistletoe never lies.”


End file.
